


A Living Epitaph, He pt. III

by Moonfireflight



Series: A Living Epitaph, He [3]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: 5.0 spoilers, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ascians (Final Fantasy XIV), Bad Ending, Banter, Blood, Body Horror, Canon Divergence, Choose Your Own Adventure, F/M, Feels, Magical Bondage, Transformation, Vaginal Sex, and SMUT, gross monster ichor, inappropriate use of magic, oh I forgot, sin eater, spoilers for emet-selch's real name, there will be fluff and tragedy in the other ending
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-09-17
Packaged: 2020-07-31 13:37:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20115964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonfireflight/pseuds/Moonfireflight
Summary: This will be the final part of the series. The Warrior of Light and Darkness has allowed herself to be whisked away to an unknown location by the Ascian, Emet-Selch. She's struggled with her feelings about and for him. Can she trust him? Does she even want to?The end of chapter one will present the reader with two options, which will eventually be links pointing to the appropriate chapters. I was going to wait until both paths were written before posting this, but I am a slow writer, and I wanted to keep the series going.Either way, get ready for strange and angsty smut, as that was always the goal here, other than exploring the phenomenal character that SE gave us with Emet-Selch. Fair warning- even the "good" ending would be a "game over" - for the world may grow dark and cold should Persephone stay with her Hades.I consent to the OTW terms of service and explicitly deny rights to reprint, share, or redistribute this work on any platform not owned by OTW. #





	1. Chapter 1

_ It’s too much. _

Blinding white worse than sun glare on the snowfields of Coerthas fills Kara’s mind with a cacophony of noise and light. She clutches her head as if trying to keep it from breaking open. The damned thing feels like an eggshell, shuddering as the monster inside grows too large for it to hold, pecking and clawing at it from within. Bile churns in her stomach and sears the back of her throat.

Yet within the white-hot agony that surges through her, there’s a faint undercurrent of grey softness just at the edge of consciousness. Anything but this white hell! She reaches for it, fingers straining and scrabbling for purchase, every muscle in her body taut, aching. There! 

The moment Kara’s hand brushes up against it at last, that brief point of contact draws her in. 

The cold is a stark contrast to the fire that filled her moments ago, so she pulls her blanket up to her chin, nuzzling into its plush comfort. She lets out a sigh as exhaustion falls from her form, leaving behind the familiar weight of peaceful sleepiness. 

Oh, but she should be getting out of bed soon. Starting tomorrow, she’ll no longer have the luxury of staving off waking for as long as possible to chase the remnants of her dreams. Dreaming has always been one of her great pleasures. The jumbled images and conversations frequently gave her inspiration for new concepts. She’ll miss sleeping in, but it is a small loss compared to the new chances to make a difference in this world. Hundreds of years of joyous work and study have culminated into an opportunity she’d never dared to hope for. 

A sudden flash of light invades her dim room - surely a breeze has just shifted her curtains. But despite the logical explanation that leaps to her mind, her heart hammers within her breast. She bolts out of bed, and runs to the window. The shadow of a once-forgotten nightmare tells her if she dares to look outside, she will find naught but ash and blood where once stood…

Kara’s heavy eyes open to a blurry vista of black and green. It's not quite right but she can't pinpoint why. With every blink, the image grows clearer. With every breath she begins to take stock of her body. The city is sideways. No. She’s laying on the hard ground but her head is propped up on something soft and warm. Unconsciously, she nuzzles against her pillow to make herself more comfortable. Shafts of distant light pierce the sky beyond the city, muted and undulating as if through...  _ By the Twelve _ ! That can only be water, and vast amounts of it! Is she under the sea? As Kara stirs, she feels movement beneath her head. 

A wave of embarrassed panic spurs her body into motion, ready to bolt and get away from whomever she’s fallen asleep on and as quickly as possible. Strong hands stop her and guide her to sit up gently instead. She wants to fight off the unneeded help. Of course, she can sit up on her own! Her fiercest attempts to shove this interloper away amount to one weak slap against his leather-clad arm. 

Once satisfied that the Warrior is no longer in danger of toppling over, Emet-Selch lets go of her and dusts off the front of his robes in a huff. “Fool woman! You nearly leapt off the ledge before us. Surely no headache can be so bad that death seems like the better choice?” 

She turns to the irritated man next to her as he brushes that shock of white hair back out of his face.  _ Curse every last one of the Twelve. _ She’d just been laying with her head in Emet-Selch’s lap. At least this time the obnoxious sensations rolling around in her stomach had nothing to do with aether sickness, and everything to do with  _ him.  _ She’d almost prefer the headaches to giving  _ those  _ thoughts any space in her head. “Good morning to you, too,” she snarks. 

Emet-Selch snorts at her quip. “How many lives must I save in order to earn the boon of common courtesy from you, oh illustrious Warrior? My acts of generosity are as crumbs to be cast aside after a meal, it seems. Such a waste.” 

“Shush, you.” Having grown somewhat used to his dramatic soliloquies, Kara chuckles and elbows the man in his ribs with no real force. She earns a single huff of a laugh, something she’s never heard from him before. In all her time fighting against them, Kara had never considered that an Ascian might have a sense of humor, or be capable of emotions beyond malice and hatred of men. Until she met him. Did Emet-Selch have a favorite book, perhaps? A favorite meal? What memories drove him to become the tired man at her side?  _ Gods _ , what idle thoughts swam through her head here at the precipice between certain death and a city beneath the sea. 

With a sidelong glance, she watches him gaze out at the metropolis. His brow is furrowed, and she can’t help but wonder what vexes him so. There’s a tiredness to him that he never seems to be able to shake off those broad shoulders, always hunching under its weight. Her eyes trace the curve of his jaw to the subtle architecture of his neck before she realizes what she's doing. Just then he turns to her with a questioning look, so she asks the only thing that she  _ should  _ have been trying to figure out since waking. “What is this place?” 

Either she hadn’t heard his earlier words, or they lie forgotten and decaying here amid the ruins. He feels his shoulders slump and runs a hand through his hair, tugging at the ends of it. This is not… He had a plan, and this wasn’t it. In his fit of… whatever that was at Mt. Gulg, he’d skipped an entire act, and now the curtains would drop and the audience laugh as he scrambles to pick up the pieces. 

Should he have left while she was unconscious, leaving her to wander his construct as he meant for her to originally? To learn from the ghosts of the past? After thousands of years, he knows he should have patience, but when he glimpses the hue of her soul, it’s nigh impossible to focus on anything else. 

He grits his teeth against the building fury within, at himself, at Hydaelyn. Barely restrained magic percolates under his skin, ready to leap to his command. How easy it would be to destroy this  _ ignorant, irritating shell  _ and release her sacred soul. He would find her again, even if it took a millennia. Why, of all the…

But of course, there’s a kind of poetic justice to her being cast as his foil, isn’t there? 

He’s spent too much time lost in thought without answering her, and he realizes she’s watching him, eager for an answer. Emet-Selch shrugs off her confusion and concern, amused by the little frown it provokes from her. “Come now. Where’s the fun in telling you when I could show you instead?” Stiff from sitting for so long, he stands up with less grace and more noise than he’d like. He rolls his neck to and fro before offering her help standing. After a moment’s hesitation, she reaches out and takes his hand. He pulls her up as if she’s weightless, yet with enough care that she swiftly finds her footing. 

“Shall we?” And as though there’s nothing strange about walking so with her foe, she takes his proffered arm. It’s impossible to glimpse the expression she wears, her hair veiling her face as she walks beside him. He’ll have to get her talking then - not that she’s usually lost for words. Nor is he, but he finds himself unwilling to break the silent sanctity here yet. 

Arm in arm, they travel along a natural slope that winds this way and that, down past craggy outcroppings and softly glowing flora. “Are we truly...” She looks around in awe, brushing her hand over a cluster of waving leaves. It’s dry, yet it still flutters in currents she can’t sense. “...Underwater?” 

“Indeed, we are. Very perceptive,  _ Warrior _ .” He can’t help being proud of his creation. Before crafting the city itself, he created a vast magical barrier over the skeletal ruins. One of its unique properties is that the sea life in the area are mostly unaffected by it. Most instinctually recognize the immense concentration of aether in the area and keep their distance, but every so often a wavekin will pass through the shield, or a plant will spring up unexpectedly. They pick up enough water aether on their way through to survive as though they were still submerged, entirely unaware of their strange predicament. 

The finer points of this sophisticated magic are apparently lost on the woman walking next to him. She stops, subsequently causing him to jerk backwards thanks to her death grip on his arm. “Yes?”

“Even now, when I’ve chosen to leave my friends behind and follow you to the Twelve knows where, you still delight in your non-answers and again you refuse to call me by my real name?” 

_ Real name _ , he fumes internally. “I answered exactly what you asked. We are underwater, yes. As to the how, which you did not ask, magic, obviously.” 

“And about my name? I’m not just a warrior, you know. I’m... “ 

Now this is interesting. Her bluster had fizzled out, leaving her staring at the ground while still clinging to his arm. “You’re what, hmm? A legendary Warrior of Light and Darkness? Slayer of Primals? A Mage unparalleled among  _ halfmen _ ? What shall I call you then? You don’t know my name and I can’t be bothered to recall yours at the moment.” He’s enjoying the way she squirms under his intentionally obtuse line of questioning, and stands at his full height for a change. 

She steels herself again, meeting his gaze with practiced defiance. “My name, which you conveniently remembered when you convinced me to follow you, is Kara.” 

He folds back into his usual slouch, shrugging with his free hand. “Ah, yes.  _ Kara _ . Must have slipped my mind.” As amusing as it is to annoy her like this, he decides to let this game go. The truth is that every time he says that name,  _ Kara _ , he feels her true name grow more distant, until he fears it will slip out of his grasp entirely. “Shall we continue?” 

With a curt nod, she falls in line next to him again, and they walk in silence until stone gives way to intricately carved tile. He lets himself be subtly led towards the edge of the walkway so she can peer down upon the pathways below. “This city is unlike anything I’ve ever seen before. It’s amazing! Are there people living here?” 

The awe in her voice seems to brush off some of the weight he’s carried for so long, leaving him feeling lighter than he has in ages. “In a manner of speaking, yes.” 

“ _ Emet _ .” Those two syllables carry a note of warning, as if she were speaking to a naughty child or a pet. Had he not just sworn off bickering over names, he might take offense at having his title shortened so. 

“Patience is a virtue, dear. But, coincidentally, an answer to your question stands not far from here. Why don’t you introduce yourself?” He slips his arm from hers and, with a hand at the small of her back, gently pushes her towards one of the phantoms that inhabit this place. A brief chill runs through his arm at the loss of her touch. 

She gasps at the sight of the robed giant, drawing its attention. “Oh! Greetings, little one. I hope I didn’t startle you.” Kara’s mind reels as the being’s unearthly speech reaches her ears. The fact that she understands every word can only be due to the Echo, surely. Deep familiarity sparks within her at those gentle and resonant tones. She’s heard this language before, yet tinged with malice and spoken with harder edges - The tongue of the Ascians. “Are you quite alright?” 

_ How in Hydaelyn?  _ The being before her must be more than twice her height, but nothing about its appearance or bowed posture speaks of danger, but rather mystery and strange comfort. “Oh. Yes. I’m fine.” She glanced back at Emet-Selch, who’s neutral face gave her no clue as to how to proceed. Well, if he refuses to answer her questions... “Though, I think I might be a bit lost. Where am I, exactly?” 

The massive robed figure knelt before her until his featureless mask was nearly at eye level with her. “Oh you poor thing! Don’t be frightened. We are just above the heart of the Polyleritae District, and rather close to the Capitol building itself! It’s no surprise that you got turned around as there is quite a crowd there as of late. We’re all waiting to find out what the Convocation of Fourteen decides to do about… Goodness. You are too young to have to worry about all this. I have complete faith that the Convocation will keep safe our city and our star.” 

With a sigh, the being before her stands up, albeit still hunched over in a way that reminds her of the suspiciously silent man behind her. The large… Ascian? pats her on the head with great care before continuing, “The elevator right there will take you to the ground level. I can go with you if you wish for help locating your guardian.” 

“Thank you, but I think I can find my way home from there. It was nice to meet you.” 

“And you as well, little one!” The robed and masked figure walks away from her, vanishing into nothing a few feet away. 

Kara blinks a few times, trying to understand what had just happened. Full of more questions than answers, she looks to Emet-Selch, though the likelihood of him clearing anything up is abysmally low. He gestures to the elevator that the tall fellow had mentioned as if directing an audience’s attention to the next stage. As she nears it, she hears a voice speaking in that same language, though there is no obvious source. 

“Welcome back to Amaurot, beloved citizen. Shall I take you to the ground floor?” 

After looking around in puzzlement, she replies, “Yes, please?” At her voice, the doors open and, with another glance at her companion, the two of them step inside. It’s so quiet within the gilded chamber that she has trouble finding her voice. A myriad of questions flit through her head so fast they seem to collide with each other so that no one takes the lead. 

Emet-Selch looks to her and she sees none of the smug confidence she expects. His face is almost neutral but she can see something mournful behind his stoic facade. Finally, her words find her, though not the ones she expected. “This place. Amaurot? It’s not real, is it?”

He takes a deep breath, and she wonders if she’s ever noticed him breathe before Does he even need to? “You are correct. This may sound overly sentimental to you perhaps, but yes, I created it atop the ruins of what was once my home.” 

“So that’s why he spoke the same language as…”

“Yes, as Nabriales, and as Lahabrea, who was once the speaker of our Convocation. The names you know us by are the titles that we became synonymous with, so vital was our work to the continuation of our utopian world.” He feels her soul pulse, flaring brightly for only a moment. There’s a sadness in her eyes, and he wonders if she regrets having put his - their - kin to the sword. 

The elevator stops and the doors open without a sound, revealing an elevated walkway. More of the robed Amaroutines are milling about a courtyard under beautiful violet boughs. Graceful and unfathomably tall buildings surround them, glowing windows filling the city with a sense of life. A heavy sensation of loss clutches at her heart, tightening its grip with each step. How can she miss a place she’s only just learned of? How can her heart know this place of illusions and ruin? “Why…” Emet-Selch guides her to take his arm again, telling himself it’s only because she looks on the verge of fainting. He wants to speak her name once more, but he needs her to remember for herself or he’ll be left worrying that she’s merely playing a role he’d inadvertently written for her. 

“I had planned for you to learn of this on your own, wandering this lonely city and speaking to the other Amaurotines.” As he speaks, he leads her down a long pathway toward what looks from here like a garden. She’s listening, but she can’t help craning her neck to gaze up at the towers, or leaning toward a gathering of people to try to catch some of their conversations. 

He pats her arm without thinking about it, as he sometimes did when they walked together and their conversation turned to heavier subjects. “They would have told you about distant cities where a terrible keening was heard from within the star. Our people could create anything we wished, so no one ever went without. This event though, preceded our creation magics running wild, allowing the spontaneous generation of malformed beasts that ran rampant.” 

Their steps have slowed and she’s listening with rapt attention. If only he could reach out and touch that soul to know what she’s thinking. There’s a hint of sadness there, perhaps pity, but the touch of a frown she wears tells him she’s not ready to believe him in full. Emet-Selch runs his free hand along one of the buildings of his creation. Even through his glove and the passage of time he can feel the heat from the great fires that consumed nearly everything. “We felt the press of the Final Days upon us, and the likely death of our star.” 

“That’s why you summoned Zodiark, then.” 

“Eventually, yes.” They are drawing very near the garden, and he pauses a few steps away from those entwining bowers and vibrant trellises.  _ Not yet _ . “We discussed and debated, considered and contemplated. Was it our duty to send some of our greatest phantomologists to help these cities in distress or would we have been imposing? Or should we turtle in and protect ourselves? In the end, the horror reached our city before we made a decision. We would engender the very will of the star so it might save itself.” 

**Kara weighs the tale he weaves against her prior understanding of the world and: **

**...the Warrior has heard **_enough _****of Ascian lies. (Go to chapter 2)****

** **...a vision overtakes her, of meteors and savage beasts. (Go to chapter 3 - In Progress)** **


	2. Denial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Warrior of Light rejects Emet-Selch's attempts to remind her of her true origins. In her anger, she beings to lose her fight with the Light locked inside of her, giving in to baser instincts and the impending transformation. 
> 
> (Even though it's in the tags, I'm going to reiterate that this is a combination of smut and weird body horror so fair warning)

**Denial**

Something in her snaps as Kara realizes what he's doing. She wrenches her arm back from him, scowling. “Stop it.” 

He winces as though struck, but she can see fury simmering behind his pained expression. "Kara…"

The Warrior stands her ground, all tension and readiness. “No. I won’t hear any more of your excuses. I can see through your manipulation. You're trying to convince me that you had good reasons for the nightmarish things you've done. You _ Ascians _ are responsible for the deaths of untold thousands of real men and women. Not 'halfmen' as you like to say. _ You _ specifically are at fault for the Garlean empire who kills and enslaves people, conquers, and performs horrible experiments on good souls."

"You wound me," he replies with a wave of his hand, his tone flat. "At least give me the well-deserved credit for the Allagan empire as well. Some of my finest work, if you ask me." 

"Not even a little bit of remorse, huh?" She takes a few steps back, mindful of the long drop behind her. "I will fight you with everything that I have to stop your rejoining. There will be no more calamities!" 

“Bold words for someone standing under millions of tonze of water” Emet-Selch holds up his hand, fingers poised to snap and bring down a hell of water on them both. “I will survive, but you would be crushed in an instant.” 

"You'd give up your precious illusory city for…"

He cuts her off, roaring, "Of course I would! For you I'd…"

A sudden coughing fit brings the Warrior to her knees, clutching at her throat. The Light she's been trying to keep at bay seems to respond to her anger, flaring and tearing at her from the inside. "Shut up! I'm sick of your lies!" Another fit of hacking passes and the floor is left spattered with white ichor. 

This should be a moment of triumph for the Ascian. For all of them, and for the very dream for which they strive. 

All he needs to do is take a step back and let this shell of a woman shatter. Rent asunder by the Light the _ vaunted hero _ would transform into a mindless beast, devouring every pitiful life on this shard in a rampage of blood and horror. She practically did his work for him in preparing this shard for the Ardor, and they would be one step closer to the completion of their great work. 

With her death, she would relinquish the soul trapped with this feeble shell. 

She’s so small and weak now but with all the anger of a trapped prey animal making one final stand. Crouching before her, he watches as, her body wracked with pain, she claws at her own flesh, trying to free the growing beast within. Kara’s head snaps up suddenly, meeting his eyes. Tears cascade down her face, turning inky black on their path down her cheeks, her throat. “H-help,” she manages, looking to the heavens now. Eyes closed now, Emet-Selch still sees her, seafoam green flickering at the edges of her being, diluted by the raging Light. 

In what is perhaps a moment of weakness or tribute to the soul this Warrior carries, the two of them vanish in a flare of darkness. 

Though a haze of white obscures and washes out her vision, Kara knows she’s been brought to a room of towering bookcases and vaulted ceilings. A massive window dominates one wall, giving her a blurred view of the tops of several towers. “Where?” she manages before succumbing to another fit of coughing. What does it matter? Even with plush carpeting beneath her hands and knees, even with the word “home” dancing at the edges of her comprehension, this place will be her tomb. A wordless scream rips from her throat as something else within her tears, the white-hot pain overwhelming. 

A gloved hand on her brow signifies that she’s not alone, and she finds comfort in the gesture and the gentle shushing sounds from the man before her. She focuses on his touch and his voice, though even this far gone she burns at the irony in finding peace at the hands of an Ascian. “You’re doing so well, Warrior. Breathe.” Expression unreadable, he runs his hand over her head, petting her as she trembles before him. “Just a little more and it will be over.” 

Emet-Selch removes his gloves, shoving them into the pockets of his coat. Even knowing her soul shall endure this trial, the warring emotions inside of him battle for supremacy, leaving him functioning on illogical instinct. He places his hand on one of her burning cheeks. White ichor drips down from the corner of her mouth and he captures it with his thumb, spreading it over her lips. “Come forth, my beautiful monster,” he drawls. 

Hatred for her foe flares within her once more before shattering, a broken shield on the battlefield. Beneath it, there’s need. Need for comfort, to not have to endure this alone. _ Please don’t leave me, please. _ She tries to speak but the words die ashen in her mouth as the Light swells again, growing well beyond what her body should be able to hold. The remembrance of dreams and fantasy spark within the white void. A night in the Rak’tika Greatwood, wishing he would visit her in that cabin in Fanow, or press her up against one of the gnarled trees and have his way with her. Or appearing suddenly in her room at the Crystarium, catching her in the act of touching herself while she imagined what he would do. 

The will to survive, as an individual, as a species. Need. 

His eyes widen as Kara’s lips part for him, her tongue running along the pad of his thumb. _ What madness is this? _ A shivering wave passes through him and his mind screams for him to flee, but he refuses, locked within the orbit of her familiar soul. He lets her take him further into her mouth, the heat there mirroring that which creeps up his spine as she gazes at him with half-lidded eyes. 

Madness, mayhap, but why not revel in this, the glorious culmination of his work on the First? 

Half-formed excuses silently agreed upon, both succumb to ancient forces beyond their control. Kara crawls forward, forcing him backward until he topples. A held breath leaves his lungs all at once and the impact leaves him half-stunned for a moment. It’s long enough for her to chase him down, kneeling over his torso. A rumble travels through her chest, almost like a purr, and she splays her hands out on his chest, worming their way under his coat. She pauses in her exploration, suddenly gripping the front of his robes as she rides out something else cracking inside of her. Her face contorts and she shakes her head violently, her black hair hiding her face for a moment as she wages her internal war. 

When she returns to him the sight of her face leaves him shaken. Her eyes are pure black but for pupils of brilliant green like strange planets adrift in an unknown sky. Black marks fan out from them, mimicking the feathers of a masquerade mask. Yet the shape of her cheeks, her brow, those unfathomable eyes themselves… They’re all _ her _. He wants to speak her name, her true name, but this beast is a mockery of it - a glorious and terrible mockery that’s… sucking on his neck now, her tongue tracing veins, teeth grazing his jawline. Yes... glorious...

She revels in the feeling of life pulsing under her lips. He’s delicious and familiar and she wants more. 

He gives over to these mad tides, and when she grabs the fur lining at the front of his coat, he takes the hint. With a snap, it’s gone, leaving her long, now-clawed fingers clutching at the air for a confused moment. The monstrous woman above him smiles, tracing a talon along the curve of his jaw before leaning down to meet his lips. He shudders at her possessive touch and the sickly sweet taste of angelic ichor upon her lips, yet he opens his mouth to her, silently begging for more of everything she would offer. 

When he reaches up to embrace her, she sits up suddenly, practically tearing the top of her robe open, fighting to escape its confines. She wriggles against him, moving down his body in her struggles to rid herself of the offending garment, and he gasps when she - accidentally? Intentionally? - grinds against his groin. It wasn’t until she did so that he realized he’d grown hard in the confines of his robes. He swears under his breath but is beyond the point of questioning the effect this bizarre tryst is having on him. 

She falls on him again, naked but for her undergarments, and he lets his hands trace along her ribs and up to her back. Kara hums appreciatively into his mouth, resuming her aggressive kisses. Their tongues dance together, a mix of sweetness and a coppery bite. It’s intoxicating. Clawed fingers begin clutching at the last of the cloth between them, occasionally pricking his chest through the many layers, and he groans. Part of him wants to let her tear his clothing off, rending it into shreds, but he hasn’t the patience for it. With another snap, he leaves himself naked to her whims. 

She presses her sweat-slicked breasts against his chest, moaning at the bliss of skin-to-skin contact at last. “Want…,” she rasps, finding it difficult to find and form the words she wants. “More.” 

Before he can form a response, Kara sits up so that she’s kneeling over his hips. She licks her lips as her eyes rove over his form. Even knowing that no matter what happens to this body he can still flee back to the rift and recover, he can’t help but feel some trepidation when she reaches a clawed hand between them. Emet-Selch hisses as she wraps her fingers around his cock. Her gentle strokes quickly quell his initial shock and he groans appreciatively, reaching for her, ghosting his fingers along her thighs. Using her deadly talons, she rips off the last piece of clothing between them. Eyes of black and shining green meet his in askance and he nods. 

The creature above him slowly lets herself sink down onto his length, panting and whimpering. She’s slick and hot and needy and he lets his head fall back to the floor, eyes fluttering shut as he lets himself feel. They easily begin to move together, him arcing up to meet her when she falls upon him. The twisted face of Persephone looks down at him, her hungry smile revealing long fangs now. Every time he opens his eyes again, he sees subtle changes - black hair slowly shifting to gold - her skin growing paler by the moment. Her movements become frantic and he meets her pace, grasping her hips so he can thrust up into her, regaining some control. Despite the madness of it all, he’s not ready for it to end. 

He hears her whines grow in intensity and takes it as a sign that she’s close to reaching her peak. Reaching between them, he presses his thumb to her clit, rubbing at it roughly to coax out her release. With a cry to rival a banshee’s, Kara shrieks and convulses, clenching around him. He starts as she bows over him, screaming again, this time far too close to his face. Claws dig into his shoulders, surely drawing blood. Emet-Selch watches in fascinated horror as golden wings erupt from her back, showering web-like strands of white ichor around them. Her feathers hang heavy, still wet, and she slowly expands and flexes her new appendages. With another cry, she begins to ride him again. 

Skin now alabaster shot through with glimmering runes, hair of gold, wings unfurled, he marvels at her form and her nigh blinding aether. Soon she shall rampage across the First, finishing the work he started so long ago. But for now, she’s his. He pulls Kara down for another kiss, not minding at all when their carelessness results in blood drawn by her fangs. Their union is messy and frantic. Far beyond words, she hisses and mewls above him, grazing her talons over his sides, pricking and scratching and teasing. Her release comes faster this time, her cries shaking the walls of their conjured domain. He follows moments later with a shout, gripping her hips to still her. 

The Sin Eater’s eyes close. It leans back, running its long fingers over its form as it luxuriates in the feeling of its lover’s seed pulsing inside. It feels its form grow and shift even more. Arms elongate and thin, golden feathers twisting to form bracelets to adorn it. Its legs grow as well, now ending in an eagle’s talons. Scrolls of aged papyrus unfurl and twist around different parts of its body, the gleaming golden script telling the tales of its every victory. Yet there is space for more to be written. It can sense the shapes of lifeforms far above, and it _ hungers _. 

It looks down at its lover, feeling a pang in its chest of remembrance. He was… important. Not for eating. Yes. Hades. Important. There is a vague sense that the next phase of transformation will make it too big to fit in this room so it sits up, lovingly patting Hades’ cheek before gathering up its aether and teleporting high into the sky. 

Emet-Selch stares at the space where Kara dispersed, blinking away his temporary blindness from that eruption of Light. Her aether trail would be easy to follow. After taking a moment to gather himself back up and recover from what had transpired, he lets his black robes of office settle over his form. Slipping into the spaces between space, he follows, eager to watch his sweet creature's rampage. 

Fully transformed, she is massive and surreal. Emerald eyes pepper her golden wings. Then he notices the crown of arcing spikes that floats over her head and the massive sickles she wields and begins to understand the impact he’d had on her form. Pride swirls in his chest as he watches her dive down, bursting through the clouds, ready to begin her feast.


	3. Remembrance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which she begins to remember...

**Remembrance**

Without warning, the woman next to him collapses to her knees. Emet-Selch keeps a firm grip on her hand, but she struggles to cover her ears as if trying to block out a sound only she can hear. She fights, twisting and wrenching to free herself from his grasp, finally giving up and pressing her head against his leg to try to quell the…

_ All around her, blazing meteors scream down from the sky, turning trees to ash and buildings to rubble. Friends, family, her people run through the streets, trying in vain to cover their heads with their arms or conjure shields to keep safe. Her world explodes into red and the building next to her sways, the side of it erupting into flame. All around her she hears screaming and the snarling of beasts. Nearby, a young person manages to avoid a cascade of stone from the building next to her, only to be dragged away down an alley by a hideous mass of teeth and terror. “Stop!” She runs after the monster, but her path is suddenly blocked by another streak of orange and red before her world is filled with black smoke. “Stop!!” She falls to her knees as Amaurot falls around her.  _

Someone has a firm grip on her shoulders, and their touch brings some measure of comfort but she can’t break out of the vision. She looks up to the sky, flashing between the emerald green of the depths of the sea and the sickly black smoke underlit by flickering flames. “Shelter! We must find shelter!” 

How he wants to gather her up in his arms, to tell her it isn’t real... Yet she is safe, so she must endure some of the terror to remember. He reaches out to her aether and catches a ghost of that memory, of fire and horror and gnashing teeth, of the beat of massive wings and the feeling of his world crumbling around him. Clenching his jaw, he vows to himself to endure it with her. But when she begs again for shelter from the deadly sky, he relents, wrapping them in a cloak of darkness. 

He hasn’t been here once since he finished creating the city ages ago. Walking through those halls in their phantasmal splendor would be too much alone. Too many severed dreams in one place. 

Kara blinks, the teleportation spell shaking some of the grasp the vision had on her. She looks up again, flinching in anticipation from what she expects to see. Instead, she finds herself in a quiet room lit only by softly glowing white flowers and diffused light coming in through the graceful arch of a window next to her. She digs her fingers into the plush rug beneath her, grounding herself in the sensation. All around, at the edges of her perception, memories drift and flicker. They call to her, luring her to grasp them and become  _ whole _ . 

_ Her hands are wrapped around a teacup, its warmth infusing her chilly fingers. The steam from her herbal tea tickles her nose and she inhales deeply of its calming scent. Knots in her shoulders from hours of hunching over this roll of parchment begin to go slack at last. Careful not to sully them with the ink still on her fingers, she traces the familiar golden patterns on the cup - curling vines and five-petaled flowers with a tiny bird nestled happily among them.  _

What was he doing, bringing her to this lost woman’s dream? Any moment she’ll snap out of her stupor and ask him what the hell he thinks he’s doing. A fair question, indeed. 

He crouches before her, living in the delusion for just a moment more, that she’ll remember the truth of her soul. The seafoam green flares again, shot through with dancing flecks of emerald - something he hasn’t seen in so long and he lets the image fill him with foolish hope. Transfixed by his fascination, he watches as her soul wraps around the seething Light, barring it off, containing it. His hope blooms - The Warrior had failed to conquer the light before… what is this change?

_ A touch on her shoulder wakes her from light slumber. His words are indistinct but the voice is one she’s heard for years. It was listening to him speak that drew her to him in the first place. She was fascinated by the way his mind worked and needed to know more. Determined to finish this project in one evening, she had stayed after hours in one of the workshops at the Capitol, but had apparently fallen asleep. She turned to look at the man who had awoken her, seeing him without his mask for the first time... _

Then Kara looks up at Emet-Selch, her black hair framing a face shimmering with tears, her eyes reflecting the sea above them and her soul. Upon her lip quivers a name she’s never heard before but that she knows so well and it finds its way to her tongue for the first time in centuries. 

“... Hades?” 

Though he’s lived and mourned and lost for thousands of years, it's been ages since he last felt the sting of tears building at the corners of his golden eyes. Has he ever experienced this paralyzing clench in his chest, joy and sorrow uniting at last within him? No dam could hold back the surge of emotions coursing through his ancient soul and he lets it overtake him, sobbing on the floor in front of she who stood as their enemy for all of her short life. The others might call him a fool if they could see him now and he doesn’t care. “Seph…” he chokes out. “You’ve returned to me.” 

Kara looks at her hands - the same hands that have fought for years, conjuring spells to take down Primals, Gods, channeling aether to… 

_ Channeling the mana within her soul, crafting the wonders her heart desired, dreams made real at a thought. To summon forth toys for the child she hoped to have one day with the man she loved with all of her heart and soul, despite him being a stubborn arse sometimes.  _

With a palm pressed to her chest, Persephone gazes at the room around her. Shelves full of books line the walls from floor to ceiling. Her favorite reading chair is nestled into a corner next to a little table with a lamp. The tall window at the far end of the room looks out over the Ademus district and its labyrinthine landscaped gardens. Yet above, instead of sky, she sees wavering beams of light dancing through… the sea? 

She starles, realizing her dear Hades is on his knees before her, his body wracked with sobs. “Hades, my love… what happened?” As she reaches for him, she notices her fingers look worn and are missing the ring that… Suddenly she’s not sure how she recognized him in the strange garb he wears. She touches his cheek and guides him to look up at her again. Despite the visage of sorrow he wears, she’s filled with the same joy she felt last time he returned from a journey across the sea. She doesn’t recall him having left but her heart is filled with longing. When she lunges forward to embrace him, he clings to her like a lifeline. 

They hold each other in near silence, until Emet-Selch’s tears dry and his breathing returns to normal, then back to almost nothing. He pulls back to look at her and sees the same face he’s sneered at and taunted - the face of a Warrior. A murderer. Yet, it’s  _ her _ eyes that shine in a reflection of the loving smile she gives him before pressing a kiss to his forehead. In the safety of their silence, he dares to whisper her true name again. 

“I’m here, love. What has happened to us though? Can you tell me? If you need time…” 

Their hands find each other, twining together naturally, and they both shuffle about to get more comfortable on the floor. “What do you remember?” he asks, voice rough with emotion. 

She tilts her head, wondering what he meant. When she looks within herself, the shades of disconnected memories flitter around her until they find some sort of order. Amaurot, recreated after their world nearly ended, stood resplendent once more. Scorched plains teemed with new life. Rivers of blood and poison ran clear and cool again. The once blackened sky shone crystalline blue with puffs of cloud here and there. Among the creatures in nature, the circle of life wheeled anew. Yet their city was sparsely populated already, half of them having given their lives to save that of the star, and half again to return the breath of life to the world. Persephone and Kara remember together. She had tried to find another way but the Convocation had pressed on with the Summoning of Zodiark despite her reservations. After such a great sacrifice, He still required more. 

Sure that He would ever hunger for continued offerings, she plead with the remaining thirteen of the Convocation, with Emet-Selch, but her words fell on deaf ears. Her friends, her sometimes rivals, her beloved… they had become paragons of conviction and no argument could sway them from their course. She recalls one fateful night spent speaking with their dear friend Hythlodaeus. He was ever a thoughtful soul, and fair. After sharing her fears, he confessed that he too had seen a change overtake Hades and the others since the Summoning. 

The memories that follow are muddled, veiled in light she cannot see through. Vague shapes and shadows meet in secret, preparing to summon another - a life to quell the hunger of Zodiark and to bring balance back to the star. There’s a great tearing she feels in the depths of her being as if the whole universe were sundered, casting the remnants about like a ship dashed against rocks, splintering into… then nothing. 

Fear wormed its way into her heart, leaving her stricken. “I remember… Hydaelyn. She was meant to protect the new life of the star, to find another way beyond sacrifice, but… What did She do??” 

He holds on tighter as she tries to pull away, reeling from her growing realization. “You couldn’t have known, Seph.”

“Were you the only one who survived? Not that I’m not grateful, but what of the rest?”

“Only three of us made it,” he explains, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles over her knuckles. “Myself, Lahabrea, and Elidibus. Though Lahabrea is gone now.” 

She looks up at him with tearful eyes. “Then I…” 

“As with the rest, your soul was sundered across thirteen imperfect reflections of our star. We’ve been working to make things whole again, and over those many years you’ve been reincarnated numerous times. In this life you survived the rejoining of yet another fragment of your soul.” Hades closes his eyes. “How I hoped it would be enough for you to remember.” 

“That’s why I carry the memories of another within me then?” He nods. “Her feelings are… complex. Part of her is seething at this, but another relished in your embrace.” 

Persephone smiles as Hades’ eyes crinkle with mirth. “Ah, yes. People these days are rarely honest about their feelings, even to themselves. How it must have irritated her to no end to find herself drawn to her sworn enemy! We played cat and mouse for some time but she would never deign to confess it, and I had no interest in her beyond the glimmer of your soul that I saw within.” 

“Well. You look different, but no less handsome than the man I fell for long ago so it’s only to be expected.” Oh, how he’d missed that impish grin. “This place though- From what she and I were able to see, you did a phenomenal job of recreating Amaurot!” She pulls him up with her to stand before the great window, looking out with wonder. 

Hades waves off her compliment. “It’s hardly perfect. Some buildings lack windows entirely, I’ve found. Much of what you see in the distance is still indistinct even up close. Most of the rooms are empty as well.” 

“But not this one,” she says, her voice almost a whisper.

At that, he glances away from her for an instant. “No.” 

“It’s perfect. It’s every bit of what I dreamt of and so much more.” She reaches up and caresses one of the luminescent moonflowers. The petals dance for a moment, their glow brightening. 

“Would you perhaps...” He hesitates, but her encouraging smile makes his heart leap. “Would you like a tour?” 

Persephone takes his arm, leaning in close, a creature of warmth and memory. “Lead the way.” 

He walks her through each room, both of them commenting on the little details he’d remembered from their whisperings so long ago. In no time they fall back into old patterns, speaking low and close, breath mingling. Wanting to save it for last perhaps, he passes by the bedroom door without a word. 

Back in the reading room, he steps away from her for a moment, holding up a finger to beg her patience. On a small round table in the corner is a radio of dark wood and brass. A twist of a knob results only in a painful hiss of static. Hades spins to face her again, grinning, and with a snap of his fingers, the noise is replaced by slow and quiet piano music that fills the room with a gentle melody. Hades bows before his love with a sweeping gesture, arm outstretched in invitation. “May I have this dance?” 

When she accepts, he envelops her hand in both of his, and with his eyes closed, reverently kisses it. The touch of his lips makes her heart flutter, bringing her back to days long lost. Each new note brings with it a golden thread of memory as they sway to a melody she knows well. “This is one of Elidibus’ compositions, is it not?” Hades nods and pulls her a little closer. The music swells and she sees the ghost of the grand ballroom where they had their first dance. In the middle of a sea of robes and masks, friends she’s known for an age, they whirl and whisper. She grins at the shock of white hair that tumbles over her lover’s mask, having slipped out from under his hood, and she carefully tucks it back into place. 

His voice casts away the shades, though the remembrance lingers in her heart. “It’s been too long… Perhaps it is better that you didn’t remember before today. I would not wish those ages of loneliness on anyone.” 

“Hades…” There are no words for what he’s gone through and what he must still endure. As blissful as these moments are, she knows her form is mortal and their reunion will be over ere it began. Would they stay together until that inevitable day? Would he sacrifice her to the altar of his engendered God for the promise of their final reunion? Such thoughts are for another time, she decides, nuzzling into the fur of his coat, sharing his warmth.

The song draws to an end, their dance continuing for a few more steps. She gazes up at him, a lock of her hair brushing his cheek, and he stops. It’s so sudden that she looks to him with concern until she catches a familiar glint in his eyes. 

He’d not found the Hyur woman unattractive exactly, just uninteresting other than for her potential. Yet her features seemed to shift before him as she recalled her true nature - The face she wore was still not the one he remembered but it was closer, and the magnificent hue of her soul is  _ hers _ . He wants it all for himself. Though he chastises himself for thinking like this the moment they were reunited, Zodiark knows he’s waited so damn long. 

Dancing just out of his reach, she smirks at him. “Are you  _ sure _ you didn’t fancy this Warrior you toyed with? All you would have had to do was ask her to your chambers and she would have…”

“Never,” he snarls. “When I looked at her, I saw only a husk that kept you hidden from me, out of my reach.” 

“And now?” She turns and dashes down the hallway, almost out of sight. Hades snaps his fingers and a red glow fills the room. Persephone’s escape is halted as aethereal chains wend their way around her wrists, the slack wrapped around the fist he holds up. Her melodious laughter fills their simulated home, and she turns to him. “Oh, you are completely insufferable!” 

“I know.” 

She makes a show of fighting against his pull and he loops the chain around his wrist again, urging her closer. “Not even a little bit of remorse, hmm?” 

He shakes his head slowly as he continues to twist her aetherial bindings until she’s standing right in front of him, wrists pulled together just above shoulder level. Hades smirks and snaps again, dispersing the chains and catching her as she drops. She slips her arms under his short coat and curls up tight against his chest, huffing out a laugh as the fur lining tickles her nose. He returns the embrace, as strange as it is to grasp at the battle robes of his once-enemy. A thought crosses his mind that clothing is becoming problematic in more ways than one. 

“Seph, look at me,” he huffs, his breath feathering through her hair. Their eyes meet for the briefest of moments and he takes his chance, bending down to capture her lips in a kiss she eagerly returns. Though these bodies have never connected so, their souls remember. This is the kiss he’s dreamt of for thousands of years. He’s crafted and crushed empires for this moment and will do it again and again if he must. 

Persephone breaks the kiss first, her expression one of open need. Both the Warrior and the woman welcome the building heat within, wanting more, wanting him. “In her own way, she loves you, you know.” 

“And you?” 

“ _ More than anything. _ ” 

He smiles and takes her hand again, leading her back to the room in which they first appeared. Across from Persephone’s reading chair is a large and regal one with a high back, dark woods and plush crimson. Hades reclines there, legs crossed and his chin resting on one gloved palm. “Good.” With a snap of his fingers, his clothing changes to something more casual than his Garlean robes. She recognizes the deep brown vest he wears over a loose white shirt, gifts she’d given him so long ago. Paired with his black trousers and gloves of dark brown leather, her breath catches in her throat at the sight. “Show me,” he says, beckoning her to take his hand. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I'm being a bit cheeky pausing here, but this has taken me far too long to work on. I have most of the last chapter written except for the smutty bit. Let's just pause here on a cute note though, because the rest makes me really sad.


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